


Black Sea Nettle Velvet

by Pi (Rhea)



Category: Kuragehime | Princess Jellyfish
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Silk Velvet Feathers Furs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuranoske tries on a new dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Sea Nettle Velvet

Kuranoske has loved clothes since before he could remember. It wasn't always his dream to be a fashion model, rather he just desired to live fashionably. If that meant a padded bra and a fabulous wig, he wouldn't let that stop him. It's just that women's fashion is so much more versetile than mens. Kuranoske can dress it butch, with studs and punked out hair, ripped jeans and trendy band t-shirts just as well as a girl. He can try on ballgowns in the ritzy shops near Shibuya matching his dress to his heels and admiring the way the fabric drapes over his falsely endowed chest. Each morning Kuranoske takes the time to select the oufit that will look best. What, today, will make him feel most confident. In what clothes will he stride down the street so that everyone knows he belongs here. Accept the beautiful person in their midst as a gift, lucky that it should be bestowed upon them. 

The Amars don't understand this, but Kuranoske doesn't understand the intrigue of jellyfish beyond the beauty of the clothes Tsukimi designs, and he certainly hasn't figured out how to spot a type of train just by listening, or why Shao Yu is important in the first place. Kuranoske has never thought of himself as a fashion geek before, the term would be too vulgar. Kuranoske is a connosuire of fashion, a paragon of beauty and refinement for others to look up to. But maybe the months he spent stabbing himself in the eye, leaning over his mothers old vanity trying to figure out just how she did it are not dissimilar to Tsukimi pouring over every picture of Jellyfish ever taken. Kuranoske can now provide flawless makeovers for any skin tone and color pallet and Tsukimi can draw luminescent jellyfish in minutes. Both are an art, skills refined over long practice, dedication and passion. 

Still, Kuranoske tries to share his love with his fellow creators. Tsukimi may have an inherent gift in choosing fabric to animate her jellyfish, but Kuranoske chooses fabric to illustrate the dress.  
"No, Tsukimi, feel this one." Kuranoske insists, dragging Tsukimi away from the lavender tulle she's currently misty eyed over and to a much more suitable rack of fabrics. "Can you feel the quality," He runs her hand over the edge of the teal bundle, "That's raw silk," Tsukimi hmms, wrinkling her nose. "Think about how that would feel against your skin, and the shine of it. Didn't you say the jellyfish glow?"  
"They fluoresce." Tsukimi corrects, "Aequorea victoria, were the first jellyfish in which GFP, green fluorescent protein was first identified." Kuranoske cuts her off by pulling the bolt of green off the rack and holding it out, under Tsukimi's spectacles.  
"Yes! It's like the ultraviolet light, calls out to the very fabric, creating the subtle color of the jellyfish!" Tsukimi exclaims, clutching the bolt to her chest. Kuranoske sighs and fingers the edge of another bolt while Tsukimi continues her rant. There is nothing wrong with liking jellyfish. 

Looking around the store, Kuranoske is pleased to note they aren't disturbing anyone. The shop is mostly empty, a bored looking woman flipping through a magazine by the cutting counter, and a young housewife comparing buttons across the store. Kuranoske has always loved fabric stores. His mother didn't sew, but she'd taught him an appreciation for fine cloth at a young age. Kuranoske had a discriminating eye as a child able to select a suitably plush chenille, or the highest quality silk simply by a brush of his fingers along the cuffs of shirts or sweaters. Kuranoske still enjoyes clothes shopping as much as a feast for his hands as for the eventually stylish outcome.  
"So aside from your Queen jelly, what else are we buying?" Kuranoske asks. Tsukimi's still muttering to herself, and doesn't answer, so Kuranoske lets his feet wander over an aisle. The natural pull of velvet is hard to resist. There's a particularly luscious red that draws Kuranoske's eye so he ignores Tsukimi's externalized inner monologe to run his fingers over the thick pile. The color is just darker than a blood red, edging toward black. It would make for a striking evening gown. Kuranoske lays the cloth over his arm, admiring the drape. There's something so sexy about well fit velvet, Kuranoske muses. Maybe it's the soft way it highlights curves, almost seems to invite touch where it dips and shadows. Not that wearing a velvet dress is an invitation to groping, but Kuranoske can certainly enjoy running his hands over his own body, turning this way and that in the mirror to see how the fold and color accentuate the red of his lipstick and the curve of his hips. He's jarred out of his imaginings by Tsukimi yanking the fabric ungraciously from his fingers.  
"This!" She proclaims, and while Kuranoske's sad to let it go, he's pleased that Tsukimi is seeing the things he sees now.  
"It's like the bell of the most elegant Chrysaora achlyos," Tsukimi pushes up her glasses, rubbing the cloth furiously between two fingers, "Black Sea Nettle," she continues darting a look at Kuranoske.  
Kuranoske shrugs, "I was thinking it'd make a beautiful evening gown."  
"Yes!" Tsukimi agrees, pulling a sketch book out of her shoulder bag. Within minutes Kuranoske's looking at a black and white rendering of an off-the shoulders evening gown, that blossomed into, short pleated bell that ended at about knee hight, leaving the last few feat to a lazily drifting lace, or perhaps layers of organza. Kuranoske is still endlessly impressed by the speed of Tsukimi's reactions.  
He nods, "Yes, that is exactly the dress I'm thinking of. The taper shows of the waist line naturally, but the fullness of the bell allows for some variation in body type while still looking equally stunning on each different individual. The neckline will show off the collarbones, or fine jewelry, while not plunging low enough to to be vulgar. The shorter skirt shows off the leg, but the tail down the back will accentuate, and compliment, allowing those not entirely confident to still wear the dress. I would certainly wear this. We just need to find the fabric for the trail." Tsukimi nods vigorously, her glasses flashing. 

Their passions may come from different places, but the still make an excellent team. They buy enough for two dresses, one mock-up and the other a promotional version for when they're selling their product. Of course Kuranoske thinks that this is probably selfish on his part as he's mostly likely to be going home with one of them. 

Tsukimi's stopped muttering by the time they arrive back at Amars. Kuranoske has gotten used to her flashes of fashion designer inspiration and stands, mostly still while she pokes and prods him. He barely flinches at the occasional needle pokes. As usual, Tsukimi doesn't stop to ask if he's okay, her timid self abandoned in the face of creative fury. Once he's sufficiently fitted Kuranoske wanders out to the sitting room. Even with the help from Chieko, it still takes a while to construct each dress, particularly the first one, where they're coming up with the pattern to fill out Tsukimi's ideas to their fullest. Kuranoske hopes that Chieko knows how to work with velvet. It isn't a traditional Japanese fabric, but despite Chieko's protests to the contrary, Kuranoske has found that she's simply a savant seamstress, so he's not particularly worried about it. Instead Kuranoske idly nibbles idly on some rather stale crackers, watching Clara swim in circles until Tsukimi's cry of victory, and the following thud, probably her collapse from exhaustion, come from down the hall. 

Kuranoske tentatively opens the door to find Chieko fanning the limp Tsukimi, and the most beautiful dress he's seen this week waiting elegantly on the sewing mannequin just beyond.  
"It's beautiful." Kuranoske breathes, drawn like a small sea creature into the arms of the waiting jelly.  
"Go ahead, try it on Kurako." Chieko says, helping Tsukimi stand, "I'm just going to go get her some water." 

Alone in the room, Kuranoske reaches tentatively toward the dress, brushing one finger down from sternum to the hem of the skirt. He can imagine the illicit brush of fingers it might not be unlike petting a jellyfish, though thankfully less deadly. Kuranoske carefully removes the dress. He slips off his own clothes expediently, but revels in the moment the dress slides over his head. As with Tsukimi's previous creations, the fit is perfect. Made for him, this gorgeous, blood red, deadly thing. Kuranoske turns to the mirror. He smoothes fingers over the skirt, somehow Tsukimi's found a way to suggest to suggest the scalloped, ridged edges of the jellyfish's bell with slight pleats to the fabric. The affect when worn, the whole dress together, is visually stunning. Kuranoske turns slowly, watching his reflection, the way the organza plays like waves behind his legs, obscuring them as he turns, the way the fabric hugs just tight enough across his chest to highlight the the false swell of his breasts with the shine of fabric, and charcoal shade of shadow. Kuranoske wishes he'd brought his make up with him, makes kissy lips at the mirror mentally picking the shade to best compliment the dress. And he'd have to do something with his hair. Swept up, perhaps, complimenting the way the dress excentuates his neck, if he could find a ruby necklace, dripping earrings to match, white elbow length opera gloves. Kuranoske twirls again, eyes closed, the prettiest girl at the ball. 

Clapping from the door makes him stop. He slams his heel down to stop his momentum, not particularly elegant.  
Tsukimi's eyes are brimming, "It's perfect!" She runs her fingers over his sides, patting at his skirt. "You're a perfect Chrysaora achlyos. I never thought I'd see one, not in it's natural habitat!" Kuranoske is suddenly reminded of thinking of petting a jellyfish as Tsukimi's fingers stroke over his stomach. "Wow, you even make my hands tingly." She beams.  
"Uh, Thank you." Kuransoke says, swallowing. "It's a beautiful dress."  
"You're perfect!" She says. Kuranoske isn't quite sure how to handle the hug, but he pats Tsukimi gently on the back. It's hard to know quite how to respond when she gets like this. Sniffing, she steps away, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.  
"May I keep this one?" Tsukimi blinks, pushes up on her glasses, and the spell of her enthrall is broken.  
"I don't see why not." Tsukimi smiles, "it really is perfect for you."  
"Thank you." Kuranoske repeats, runs his own hands over the dress one last time, "but I think if I'm going to go home for the evening, you should probably leave so I can change. Unless you want to stay that is. I mean it's rather late and I should-"  
Tsukimi eeps, jumping to turn away.  
"Oh no. Yes. Change. I'll just be!" the door slams. Slowly, Kuranoske removes the dress, careful not to let it catch or pull, to be gentle with the seams as he eases it off over his head. Redressed, with the beautiful gown tucked carefully over one arm, he bids a cheerful goodbye to the Amars. 

When he gets home, he sets the dress up on his own mannequin. He admires it from across the room until his eyes are too sleepy to stay open. It is always nice, he muses as he slips into sleep, when beautiful things are the last thing you see before you close your eyes. The night is nothing but pleasant dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Dress inspired by this image of a Black Sea Nettle : http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3103/2851346441_9a435fb217.jpg


End file.
